


Where sunrise finds us

by sdwolfpup



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Road Trips, Romantic Fluff, Sevenmas, a few special guest appearances, but that's in the past - Freeform, ex-grad student brienne, holiday fluff, in terms of years, professor jaime, there was only one car!, they're both older than canon ages though, they're both writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: Jaime is trying to make it to Casterly Rock for Sevenmas when a storm shuts down every flight out. He's got one night to drive there, and there's only one car left in the rental lot - which a grad student from years past, Brienne Tarth, has already reserved. Eighteen hours together in a car with their history and his feelings, it's sure to be a chill and uneventful trip.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 89
Kudos: 288
Collections: JB Festive Festival Exchange Stocking Stuffers 2020





	Where sunrise finds us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EleanorHugo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanorHugo/gifts), [mizwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizwrites/gifts).



> EleanorHugo asked for "Cheesy Hallmark movie" for the JB Festive Fest. Mizwrites asked for "age difference and Jaime POV." This is what happened. Happy chillfest to both of you, I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Thank you to slips for encouragement; forbiddenfantasies for validation (and a moderate job of reigning me in 😂); and BrynnMcK for excellent AND hilarious beta services and cheerleading, as always. Title modified from this Khalil Gibran quote: "We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us."

**5:02 PM, Sevenmas Eve**

“I fucking hate Sevenmas,” Jaime growled to the uncaring mass of humanity he was stuck in. The storm had closed down the airports – public _and_ private – and now he was in line with every other desperate idiot to try to rent a car to drive in a storm even planes wouldn't traverse. But he had missed the last four Sevenmases with increasingly weak excuses, and if he didn't show up to this one, his father would disown him, his sister would stop making excuses on his behalf, and Tyrion really would stop talking to him for abandoning him to the lions. 

Karma. That's what it was. Karma, coming to kick his ass for not being a dutiful son, for trying to make his own way in the world when all his family wanted was all of his devotion. Well, karma could shove off, because he was Jaime fucking Lannister and he was not going to let a storm stop him.

* * *

**5:49 PM, Sevenmas Eve**

It wasn't the storm that stopped him – it was the utter lack of rental cars. 

“Oh come on,” he moaned as he made his way to the final rental desk in the row, but the agent just shook her head before he could even open his mouth. “ _Nothing?_ I'll take a damn moped at this point!” 

“I'm sorry, sir. Everyone wants to be home for Sevenmas.” 

“I'll pay quadruple the price.” Jaime couldn't afford that on his professor salary, but his father would pay it if he could get home. Or at least Tyrion would. 

“There's nothing.”

“I'll pay you sextuple to drive me yourself,” he said, desperate, hoping his good looks would overcome his current lack of charm. 

The woman was not impressed in the slightest. “That is highly inappropriate, sir.”

“ _You're_ highly inappropriate!” 

“Professor Lannister?” 

Jaime turned, and blinked at the woman staring at him with wide, surprised eyes. He had had many students in his tenure at King's Landing University so far, and most of them he wouldn't be able to pick out of a line-up. But this woman, he remembered. Given her height and breadth, her awkwardly arranged features and bevy of freckles, Jaime suspected most people would remember her. But Jaime remembered her for far better reasons. 

“Brienne Tarth?” 

She nodded hesitantly. “It's me,” she said. They stared at each other for another minute, and Jaime recalled how angry she'd been five years ago when she'd stormed out of the master's thesis committee he'd chaired. Angry and hurt. He felt a shiver of shame at the memory. “Are you done here?”

“I never got started. Every car in a fifty mile radius has disappeared.” 

“You need a car?”

“Just like every other poor sap in this place. Including you, I'm guessing.” He nodded at the pink duffel bag hanging from one hand, the backpack strap he saw slung over one arm. 

“Actually, I, uh.” She scooted past him, and gave him an apologetic smile. “I have a reservation.” 

“How in the seven hells did you manage that?” he asked, gaping at her. She held up her phone, looking sheepish. “So you cheated.”

Brienne stiffened, any hint of approachability disappearing. “I did what any smart person would do. It's not my fault you didn't think of it.” 

Jaime turned on the woman at the counter. “You took online reservations while we were standing in line?”

The woman shrugged. “Company policy, sir. First come, first served.” 

“I would have come on the phone, then!” he yelled, just before he realized how that sounded. It had not escaped the two women's notice either. The rental car agent was glowering, and Brienne was bright red and wouldn't meet his eyes. 

“May I help you, miss?” the agent directed to Brienne, and Jaime shuffled a few steps backward, glaring furiously around him. Most people had either departed for their rental cars, back to their homes, or were finding places to bunk down on the floor for the night and wait and see if there would be any flights tomorrow, though meteorologists insisted that was unlikely. He stared at the back of Brienne Tarth, at the same purple backpack littered with silly pins as she'd had in grad school, the same absurdly long legs she hid in loose jeans, the same hair falling limply down to her shoulders. She was exactly as he remembered her, and, he realized, he wanted to kiss her exactly as much.

* * *

**6:03 PM, Sevenmas Eve**

“Where are you headed?” Jaime asked as soon as Brienne had keys clutched in her hand. He had spent the last five minutes considering and discarding increasingly awful plans until he'd settled on the only option. A complete gamble, but he was a man with no choice. He just hoped he had a chance. 

Brienne eyed him and said, “Highgarden.”

“Family?”

“Friends. Margaery Tyrell, she was in some of your classes with me.” 

Tyrell, Tyrell. He tried to recall who Brienne had talked to in those days, but she had taken up so much of his attention back then that she was all he could remember. “That's nice,” he said weakly and Brienne rolled her eyes. He hurried on, the first part of his plan complete. “You're not that far from where I'm trying to get to.”

“Oh,” she said in a flat tone. Brienne started walking towards the rental lot and Jaime hefted his carryon and went with her. She shot him a quick look. “I thought you didn't have a car?”

“I don't. But I'm hoping something will come up to get me out to see my family. I haven't been home for Sevenmas for four years. I bet my nieces and nephews are so grown up now.” That was laying it on a bit thick, but he recalled Brienne had a particular soft spot for family stories. Some of her best work had been about being alienated from family; her stories had spoken to him when he was grading late into the night. He'd used to save them for the end as a reward for making it through everyone else's. 

Her rough features smoothed a little. “I hope you're able to find something. Did you try the other rental agencies?”

“Every one. I even checked buses and trains, but it would take too long. I'd miss Sevenmas entirely, and it's an important tradition in our family.” That was true. It was the only time of year all the Lannisters returned to Casterly Rock, like rich, golden-haired homing pigeons. What he didn't tell her was how much he hated it, as a rule.

“I thought you hated Sevenmas?” she said, eyes narrowed in disbelief. Right. They'd grown close during her last year of study; disastrously close, especially when he'd been selected as her thesis committee chair. He hadn't exactly been able to turn it down just because he was planning to ask her out once she had her MFA firmly in hand. So instead he'd sat on the committee and raked her across the coals in front of everyone, overcorrecting for his feelings so no one would think he'd skated her through, confident she'd succeed anyway. She had – but she'd been furious with him, and badly hurt, if the tears in her eyes at the time had been any indication. They hadn't spoken since. 

Not until tonight, five years later in the King's Landing Airport. 

“I hate the commercialization,” Jaime said in answer to her question. “And the travel.” That got a loud snort. “Brienne,” he said, touching her arm to still her before they stepped out of the warm airport into the freezing evening air. “I know this is a lot to ask.”

She sighed heavily. “Then don't.” 

“Please, I have no other way to get there, and it's been years. Five years is a long time to go without talking to someone, don't you think?” Her eyes were as electric blue as he remembered, and as quick to show every last emotion, too. Just now she looked... regretful. Jaime had reached out to her after her thesis defense, had sent her a pristine original copy of her favorite old novel as a congratulations and apology gift, and she hadn't said a word in return. He'd thought that she was interested in him, too, but her utter silence, her complete disinterest, had proven otherwise, so he'd let her be and moved on with his life.

Professionally, at least. Romantically had been less successful. It wasn't that he was holding a torch for her – an ex-student he'd never kissed – so much as that, after Brienne, no one had yet lit a new torch in his heart, though he'd handed several people matches and lighter fluid to try. 

“It is a long time,” she said now, softly, and then stared out the doors at the snow falling hard and fast. “No one should be driving in this.” 

“Are you just going to wait here then? Hope that the storm ends in time, they clear the grounds, and they make space for you before everyone who was cancelled on flights ahead of us?” 

Her head drooped forward. “No. Margaery will kill me if I don't make it this year; she's got this whole special plan that she needs me for, and it has to be on Sevenmas.” 

Jaime's hand clenched around the handle of his luggage. He could have gone home. Jaime had spent enough Sevenmases alone that he could stomach one more; would find _some_ way to charm Tyrion, at least, back on his side. But Brienne was so close to agreeing and all the things he remembered about their time together were suddenly so vivid in his head. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed talking to her until she was here. “You can't miss that. And I can't miss my family. I'll pay for the rental car, all gas, food. I'll drive some of the way if you let me. All you have to do is unlock the passenger door.” 

“Do you even know how to drive?” she asked in disbelief. 

“I used to drive all the time,” he said. He had, before he'd moved to King's Landing ten years ago and left his car behind. Since then he'd gotten Addam or the few visitors he'd had to drive him around. There was just no need for a car when he lived in the center of everything. 

“Where are you headed back to?” 

This was the tricky part. “Casterly Rock, but Lannisport will do.” He gave her his best, hopeful smile. 

“ _Casterly Rock!_ That's eight hundred miles away from Highgarden. That's basically the same trip we'll be making from King's Landing!”

“Don't exaggerate, it's only seven hundred miles. Seven-fifty at most.” Brienne did not look convinced and he could feel the sure thing slipping away. “If you drive me to Lannisport, I can get a car to Casterly from there and I'll get you a private flight on a Lannister jet straight to Highgarden. Two hours in luxury and you'll make it with time to spare, refreshed and ready.” She was wavering, he could see it. “What do you say, Smudge?” 

Brienne made a face. “Fine. But you cannot call me that the rest of the trip.” 

“Deal.” He held out his hand and she took it, long fingers wrapping easily around his, warm palm fitting snugly into his own, and he realized the enormity of the problem he was about to have.

* * *

**6:23 PM, Sevenmas Eve**

“This one must be mine,” Brienne said as they approached the only car left in the lot. It beeped twice when she unlocked it. It was nothing special: a white sedan that had enough room for their luggage and barely enough room for their legs. Jaime approached it slowly, weighing the prospect of being in this box for the next twelve-to-fifteen hours, depending on how fast they could drive. The Goldroad was fairly straightforward and should be relatively empty driving through the night, though it might be busier if they weren't the only ones making a last-minute journey. He suspected Brienne was a speed limit-obeying type, though. He'd have to work on that. 

They put their luggage in the trunk, and Brienne set her backpack in the back seat. 

“Precious cargo?” he asked, pointing at it. 

“My laptop and writing pad.” 

Jaime grinned. “You still handwrite,” he said, pleased. She bit her lip and nodded silently. 

“Jaime?” His name echoed through the empty parking garage. It hadn't been Brienne who'd said it, and he peered around, trying to find the source. “Cousin? Is that you?”

“Oh shit,” Jaime muttered, spotting a man at the far end of the garage, one hand lifted like he had a question. 

“Who's that?” Brienne asked, peering at the man as well. 

“No one. Quick, get in the car.” Jaime yanked open the passenger side door as the man started their way, but Brienne just stood there. 

“He seems to know you.”

Jaime grunted. “He does. But I don't want to know him. Hurry up, we don't want him to catch us.” 

“I think he wants something.”

“Knowing Cleos, he'll want a ride. You don't want to shove a third person into this car do you? A man you don't know?” Jaime was ready to take the keys and drive off himself if Brienne didn't get in the damn vehicle. “He'll be fine; he always is. It's best just to pretend you didn't hear him and drive away.” She hesitated, and Jaime could hear Cleos calling him, could see him struggling with his multiple pieces of awkwardly-sized luggage. “Drive away, Brienne. Just drive away.” 

She got slowly into the car and started it up, all the while staring through the window at Cleos. “Are you sure? He called you 'cousin.' Is he going to Casterly, too?”

“With Cleos? Who knows. The man is a hapless fool and an energy vampire. Unless you'd like to be regaled with every flavor of his Jam of the Month club – and expect an hour on the mango peach preserves – then we should leave before he gets to us.” 

That seemed to spur Brienne into motion, and she drove quickly away. Jaime looked back over his shoulder and saw Cleos stumble to a halt, still a fair distance away, his shoulders falling. It felt like they'd both avoided being saddled with the world's most boring boulder and kicked a well-meaning but irritating goat on their way out. 

“This seems wrong,” Brienne said when Jaime settled back in his seat. 

“Trust me,” he said burrowing into the uncomfortable seat back, trying to make space for his legs in the well. “It only would have ended badly for him.”

* * *

**8:51 PM, Sevenmas Eve**

The first two hours went pleasantly enough. For values of 'pleasant' that included an astonishing amount of snow, one very brief argument over Jaime's selection of radio station (“Driver picks the music,” Brienne insisted, turning off his classic rock and putting on some warbling indie artist from her phone instead), and an uncomfortable twenty-minute nap that left Jaime more groggy than when he'd fallen asleep. 

“Whats your plan for gas?” he asked upon waking. They weren't even out of the Crownlands yet, but Jaime had had one particularly bad road trip where he'd gotten stuck in the middle of nowhere because he hadn't planned his gas stops and he was not having that happen again – especially not in the middle of a snowstorm that was making it hard to see further than fifty feet ahead of them. At least Brienne seemed fully in control. Her pretty eyes were calm. 

“It's only been eighty miles because of the snow. We won't need to get gas until halfway there, Professor.” 

“What happened to 'Jaime'?” he asked. By the end of her time at grad school, they'd been on a first-name basis. Her cheeks went a little pink. 

“Habit, I guess,” she said, watching the road intently. 

He cleared his throat. They were going to have to address the thesis-shaped elephant in the room. “Brienne,” he started, but she cut him off. 

“Are you hungry? I'm hungry. Let's stop and get some food and drinks for the trip. I didn't have dinner; I was planning to rely on airplane food.” 

Jaime sighed. “Sure, let's do that.”

* * *

**9:02 PM, Sevenmas Eve**

“You eat like a child.” Brienne looked disapprovingly at the pile of random food he'd put on the mini-mart counter next to her carefully cultivated selection. Her trail mix was touching his Cheetos; his Twinkies nestled against her peach cup. 

He should not be getting turned on by snack foods. 

“I eat like a man on a road trip,” he protested. “I have a very healthy diet at home.” 

She gave him a knowing look. “Does that include your twice-weekly pizza nights?”

“I get spinach on my pizza, or have you forgotten?” 

Brienne tugged at her lip with her teeth and stared down at the counter. “I haven't forgotten.” Her voice was quiet, the joking all washed away. Jaime inhaled, ready to speak though he had no idea what to say. 

“Long trip ahead of you folks?” the man behind the counter asked. He had shaggy hair, small eyes, and wide, flat nostrils. His name tag said _Pyg_. Well, it wasn't wrong about that. 

“We're driving to Lannisport,” Brienne said and the man's eyes widened. Some. As much as eyes that small could, Jaime supposed. 

“That's a long way. Get caught out by the storm?” They both nodded. “You're not the only ones that have been through this way because of that. Furthest distance though. Need a map? I've got the perfect one.” He gestured with a flourish at the single map stuck into the rack on the counter. 

Brienne smiled tightly. “We're good, thank you, just the food.” 

“Your loss,” Pyg said, shrugging. “Truth be told, I'm not sure it's real anyway.”

* * *

**10:31 PM, Sevenmas Eve**

“So you must be good friends with Margaery still, to be spending Sevenmas with her,” Jaime said. It had been over twenty minutes of silence, preceded by an hour of rustling, chewing, and drinking. Five years of not even a friendly text. He was tired of not talking to Brienne. 

“We are,” she said, failing to elaborate further. 

“Your family's okay with you missing Sevenmas?” He recalled that she'd gone home to Tarth for the last Sevenmas of her graduate year. He'd teased her about belonging to a rich, island-owning family, and she'd been so adamant trying to explain the truth that he'd nearly kissed her then and there. 

That had been the first time he'd realized how attracted he was to her. Thank the gods she hadn't been a student of his at that time, too; Jaime had barely been able to handle the situation as it was. There had been many students who'd actively tried to pursue him during his career – teachers, too, even when he was a college student himself. Not one had ever provided even the slightest temptation, until stubborn, romantic Brienne Tarth. 

“My dad died four years ago,” she said. “He was my only family.” Her voice hitched a little, and Jaime felt like an asshole. 

“Brienne. I'm... I'm so sorry.” He reached out to touch her, but pulled his hand back before he did. He had no right to that. “I didn't know.”

“Of course you didn't. We haven't talked since...” She lifted her chin, gripped both hands tightly around the steering wheel. “It's fine. But thank you.” 

_Idiot_ , he berated himself. He lapsed back into silence as Brienne drove into the thinning storm.

* * *

**10:47 PM, Sevenmas Eve**

“What about you?” Brienne asked, startling Jaime out of his hypnotized stare out of the window. He'd been counting snowflakes, and when he'd gotten bored somewhere after a hundred, he'd started trying to find shapes in the swirling patterns. 

He rubbed his hand over his face and looked at her. She spared him a quick glance, her eyes clear and curious. “What about me?” 

“Why haven't you been home for Sevenmas in years? You're obviously wealthy enough to make the trip, and you're still teaching, so you have the break off.” 

“How do you know I'm still teaching?” he asked, and her cheeks brightened, pink and red. _Well isn't that interesting._

“I... I still keep in touch with the writing community at KLU. You know what a bunch of gossips they are.” 

Jaime laughed ruefully. The KLU gossip machine had been one of several compelling reasons he had not kissed Brienne before she graduated – had, in fact, done everything he could to make it seem like he wasn't interested in her as more than a friend. “I know all too well,” he agreed. He rested his head back against the headrest. They were a couple hundred miles out of the city now, driving faster as they left the storm behind. Far enough from King's Landing that Brienne wasn't likely to turn around and force him out of the car if she was annoyed with him. Probably. “I could have gone back,” he admitted slowly, answering her earlier question. “But it was like walking into a lion's den wearing a suit made of meat. I got tired of fighting and defending myself during a holiday that was supposed to be about family and peace on earth.” 

That was more truth than he'd intended to give, but Brienne just made a soft humming noise before asking, “Why go back at all?” 

It was dark outside, only a few flakes falling now. Jaime could see snow along the edge of the Goldroad, heavy on the tree limbs. The moon was struggling to shine through the low clouds, but the headlights of the car lit up the freshly-plowed road in sparkling white. He loved fresh snow, the peace of it. It had to be that feeling of contentment that made him say, “Because I was tired of being alone on Sevenmas.”

“Me, too,” Brienne whispered. The road stretched, gleaming, ahead of them.

* * *

**11:58 PM, Sevenmas Eve**

“Hurry up!” Jaime shouted at the closed bathroom door. 

“I'm going as fast as I can!” Brienne's muffled voice shouted back. “You're not helping the situation.”

Jaime bounced on the balls of his feet and thought of deserts, of dried-out riverbeds, of hot summer days. Sweating. Pools. Brienne in a bathing suit. 

“Nope, nope, nope,” he told himself. “None of that.”

“What?” Brienne yelled.

“Nothing!” He stared down at the dirty, snow-packed ground at his feet. Finally, the door opened and he rushed into the bathroom as soon as Brienne had moved out of the way. 

“You're welcome,” he heard her say as the door shut. 

When he was done – and, gods, that had been excruciatingly close; they'd have to time their breaks better – his hands washed and his composure recovered, he stepped out of the bathroom to find Brienne grinning with a small pine branch in her hand. 

“Merry Sevenmas!” she said, holding it out to him. Jaime took it, confused. “Look at the time.”

He did, and laughed a little. It was 12:01 in the morning. Sevenmas Day. “Merry Sevenmas, Smudge,” he said fondly. 

“What did I tell you about that nickname?” She grabbed the branch back. “You're driving.”

“If that's my punishment, it was worth it.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him as they hurried back to the car. He'd forgotten how giddy and playful she could get late at night, as though her armor all fell apart at the stroke of midnight, like Cinderella. 

“I'll just have to increase your punishment next time, then,” she said airily and Jaime got abruptly, embarrassingly hard. 

_Deserts_ he thought frantically. _Grandmama Jeyne. My father. My father's disappointed stare when I come home and I'm still an unmarried Creative Writing professor in my forties._

Jaime slid into the driver's seat, sighing in relief.

* * *

**12:06 AM, Sevenmas Day**

“I thought you said you knew how to drive!” 

“If you'd stop yelling at me, maybe this would be going better!”

“You nearly ran us off the road, Jaime. Three times! Let me drive.”

“I can do it! Brienne, stop. Ow. What are you-- You can't just turn the ignition off while someone else is driving. Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Less dangerous than you behind the wheel. Move.”

* * *

**1:17 AM, Sevenmas Day**

“--and then I said, 'I'm sorry, I don't take advice from indirect objects.'”

Brienne burst into loud, ringing laughter, filling the car with the sound until Jaime was sure he could feel it on his skin. It felt like sunshine. 

“You didn't!” she gasped, breathless and beaming. 

“I absolutely did,” Jaime insisted. “Connington deserved it, he was an asshole.”

“I remember.” Brienne wiped at her eyes. “That program was filled with assholes, though.” 

“It still has at least one,” Jaime said with a self-mocking smirk. 

Brienne looked over at him, a small smile on her face. “You do have a reputation to uphold.” 

“Sometimes I do it so well I'm not sure it's an act,” he said, and Brienne's smile fell. _Shit_. “Sometimes it's only an act,” he added quickly. “Sometimes I wish I could have been anything but an asshole.” 

Her eyes flickered to him, and then down to the dashboard. “Shoot, we're getting near empty. We should get gas soon, and then I think we should find a rest stop, I need a nap before we keep going.” 

“Or you could let me work out the rust and drive the rest of the way.”

She glared at him. “Absolutely not. We're lucky you didn't pitch us off the road to our deaths.” 

“I think you're overstating it,” he grumbled. Jaime folded his arms across his chest and sunk down into his seat. He wasn't pouting. He was just clearly making his disappointment known through nonverbal clues. It wasn't the same thing at all.

* * *

**1:44 AM, Sevenmas Day**

They both reclined their seats back as far as they would go, wrapped up in clothes they'd excavated from their luggage. Brienne had cranked the heat up on their way to the rest stop, but it was already starting to dissipate now that the car was off and they were just sitting in the cold. 

Jaime shut his eyes, hearing Brienne moving around trying to get comfortable in the seat next to him. She was even taller than he was, and his knees were aching from the number of times he'd banged them into the dash. 

“Are you sure this is going to work?” he whispered. She'd parked them far from any lights, but the moon was bright enough he could see her profile clearly. She wasn't sleeping. 

“No,” she whispered back, turning her head to look at him. “But we don't have much choice. A motel room would be a waste for just a couple of hours, and we're already going to be lucky to get in by noon as it is.”

Jaime could think of plenty of good uses for a motel room right now, and not all of them were dirty. He was about to list the non-sexual ones when Brienne spoke again. 

“I'm not mad at you, you know.”

He caught his breath, shocked. 

“Not for the thesis defense, I mean. That book you sent afterward was beautiful, and your note... it meant a lot to me. But most importantly: you weren't wrong.” 

“I wasn't?” He tried to remember what he'd written in the note. He hadn't been brave enough to come right out and tell her his reasons for what he'd done, but he thought he'd hinted at them fairly strongly. It was why he hadn't bothered to contact her again when she'd ignored him. 

“I needed time on my own, to explore who I was, so I could bring that to my writing. Everything I wrote was technically good, but immature. And cowardly. You said in my defense that I had a gift and I was squandering it by not letting the real me shine through.”

“Gods, I did.” He cringed. “I'm sorry.”

“It hurt to hear.” She huffed a little. “It hurts a little now to remember it. But you were right. I got a job doing ad copy after graduation.”

“That sounds...”

“Dreary?”

Jaime half-grinned. “I was going to say pedestrian.” 

Brienne chuckled. “It was. It is – I'm still doing it. Need to pay the bills somehow. But I'm writing something for myself, too, and it's honest. It's the most honest I've ever been on the page. I think it's the best thing I've ever written, and it's because of you. I think about you, your words, all the time.” The quiet in the car was expectant; her lips looked soft in the moonlight as she spoke. It had always been so easy to listen to her, to be captured in her twilight eyes. “So, thank you. For being an asshole that one time. I don't know if it would have gotten through otherwise – I can be stubborn.”

“You don't say,” he murmured, desperate to break the tension before he did something impulsive. She laughed a little again. They had had many arguments over the course of her grad school experience, neither of them willing to bend when their minds were set, even when they knew they were wrong. They'd admitted it hours or days later, usually in the most passive way possible. But they'd never rubbed the other person's face in it – they'd both known it could be them next time. 

Brienne yawned loudly, and shifted again in her seat. “I'm tired enough I might actually sleep,” she mumbled, her chin already sinking lower. 

“Good night, Brienne,” Jaime whispered. Her response was soft and unintelligible. A lock of hair slid slowly across her face and his fingers itched to carefully brush it back. 

_I think about you_ reverberated as loudly in the car as her laughter had.

* * *

**4:03 AM, Sevenmas Day**

Jaime eventually slept, too, though not well, and he was shivering when he woke, except for one arm that had stretched across the well between their seats in the night and was curled around Brienne's, which had met him halfway. 

He extricated himself and she woke as soon as his hand had retreated to his side, blinking sleepily at him. They got out and stretched and shivered and used the restrooms and were on their way again, quiet as they drove through the early morning. The sun wouldn't rise for a few hours yet, but the sky felt lighter already. The quiet did, too, an easy silence instead of a heavy one. 

“So,” she said, a hundred miles before Deep Den. They weren't quite halfway there, but they were getting close. About seven or eight more hours of travel, Jaime estimated, before they reached Lannisport. “You didn't have anyone in King's Landing to celebrate Sevenmas with?”

Jaime's heart thumped loudly in his ears, but Brienne was staring very nonchalantly out the window. “No,” he said. “Not even a pet.” 

“Really? That sounds lonely.” 

“What about you? Pets? Someones?” 

Red crept across her cheekbones like sunrise. “No someones,” she said in a high voice. “But I do have a cat. Podrick. He was a stray that was following me around, so I brought him home. Scraggly thing, but he's filling in nicely.” Her whole face was gentle as she talked, shining with love for the fortunate creature. Jaime wondered what it would be like to have all of Brienne's heart directed at him that way. He's certain her light would make even the most difficult seed bloom. “I'm lucky he found me.”

“Sounds like he was the lucky one.”

She grinned a little, embarrassed. “We both were.” 

They continued in companionable silence for another minute. 

“You still live in King's Landing, then?” Jaime ventured. 

“I do. I grew to like the city, and there's not much for me on Tarth now.” 

“I'm surprised we haven't run into each other,” he said. “It's a big city, but not that big.” 

“Oh, well, I.” She looked like he'd caught her committing a crime. “I've seen you. A-- a couple of times.”

Jaime turned to face her. “Seriously?” She nodded. “Why didn't you say hello?”

“After the defense committee, when you sent that gift – it felt kind of like a goodbye.” _A goodbye?_ he thought in alarm. Apparently Brienne had not been the only one struggling with being honest in her writing. 

She continued. “Then when I didn't hear from you again, I assumed it was. When I saw you after that, you were busy. Working out in the park.” She looked like she might burst into flame. 

“I do – every Sunday at Visenya's Hill. I have for years.” 

Brienne nodded, a tiny, jerky, uncomfortable thing. Jaime felt a slow-growing delight. “Smudge--” She glared at him and he backtracked. “Brienne. Have you been _spying_ on me?”

“No!” she protested, quite loudly. “Not on purpose, at least. I didn't even realize it was a regular thing until after the fourth time I saw you.”

“Four times!” He was laughing now, thrilled, though she was looking more like a turtle by the second. “Did you enjoy the view at least?” he teased her. 

If he thought she'd been red before, he'd underestimated just how crimson her face could get. 

“Shut up,” she muttered. 

“Wow. Four times,” he said, smirking. 

“Eight.”

“What?”

“Eight times,” she sighed. “The first four were accidental. The fifth and sixth time I was just testing my theory.”

“And the other two times?” he asked. He wasn't laughing now, and she didn't look ashamed. 

“Those were for me,” she said. Her blue eyes were dark as she glanced at him. 

Jaime swallowed hard. “Next time you should say hello,” he said, his voice husky. 

“Next time I will.” Hers was, too. 

He gripped his own thighs to hold himself in place. Brienne stared straight-ahead and drove them onward.

* * *

**7:52 AM, Sevenmas Day**

The sun was finally rising behind them, painting the road ahead in pink and orange. The storm had left behind a cold, clear, gorgeous morning. Frost crisped the snow, making it glitter, diamond-like, in the sunlight. It was a perfect Sevenmas Day, and Jaime was dreading reaching Lannisport. He'd rather stay on the road with Brienne, learning more about her, discussing more books that they'd read over the past few years, sharing stories and opinions as they'd been doing for hours now. Jaime's throat was dry, they'd been talking so much. Her voice was raspy from overuse. 

Brienne's phone beeped and she frowned down at it quickly to see who it was. 

“Margaery's texting me. Let's pull over and stretch and I'll see what she has to say.” 

They parked in the lot of a fast food restaurant, and Jaime left Brienne to her calisthenics and texting while he ran inside to get coffees and breakfast sandwiches. When he returned again ten minutes later, annoyed at how long it had taken them to fill the order, Brienne looked upset. 

“Here,” he said, handing her a coffee. “Everything all right?”

She glanced at her phone and then shrugged. “It's fine. Come on, we've got about four more hours until we're there.” 

“Are you sure you don't want me to drive?”

Brienne shot him a dry look over the top of the car. “There are actual people on the roads with us now, so no, not even a little.” 

“You're very cruel, Smudge.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't correct him.

* * *

**10:27 AM, Sevenmas Day**

_Lannisport – 80 miles_ the sign read, and Jaime's heart fell to his feet in dismay. 

They'd been together nearly seventeen hours now and he still wasn't ready for it all to end, but at the time they were making it would be just over an hour before they arrived. One more hour and then Brienne would be gone from his life again, unless she really did find him at Visenya's Hill. 

“I was wondering,” she said, sounding unusually timid. “You can say no, if you want. But... I have my latest piece in my notebook.” She looked in the rearview mirror and he followed her gaze to the backseat where her backpack was. “Would you mind reading it and giving me your opinion? I respect your talent, and your judgment, and I haven't shown it to anyone yet and I could use an honest eye before I submit it anywhere.” 

Jaime was floored. He had spent so much of that time being impressed by her that he'd had no idea she'd felt the same. He'd had no idea about any of her feelings towards him. He'd hoped and suspected, but not enough to risk it. 

“I didn't realize you'd read my writing,” he managed once he'd composed himself, reaching back for her backpack and settling it in his lap. 

“I've read almost all of it. I was thrilled when I had you as my professor at KLU. I've kept up with your published work since I left.” 

Jaime was surprised he didn't turn incorporeal and float out of the car, he was so stunned. “I tried to keep up with yours, too,” he told her, pulling out the notebook. It was teal and covered with sparkly stickers of unicorns and fairies. Jaime remembered how much she loved bright, colorful stickers. It had always seemed so incongruous with her dour face, her serious words. “I could never find you in the local publications, though, or any of the big national ones. I hoped you'd just moved but... I was partially afraid I'd broken your spirit.” 

As he returned the backpack to its place, his chest brushed her shoulder, and they both jolted at the touch. 

“You couldn't break me,” she said, and it was serious and playful all at once, just like Brienne. 

“I would never want to,” Jaime replied truthfully. She returned her attention to the road. 

“It's the story that starts at the dark blue post-it.” The book was filled with multicolored post-its; he found the right one and opened the notebook in his lap. “Please be truthful, though maybe not quite as much as you were at my defense.” 

He huffed ruefully. “I am sorry about that. I had... reasons for what I did, but they weren't good enough for how I treated you. I might have been right, but I was unkind, and you didn't deserve it.” Her writing was as blocky as he remembered it, but even the lines looked more confident on the page, like she'd been writing with a blaze of purpose. There were small smudges from where she'd rested her hand on the ink as she worried over a line or a word; he knew they'd be on her skin, too. “You were a good writer, Brienne. A _great_ writer, even then. I should have been more supportive and less destructive.” 

Her blue eyes were as warm as the Summer Sea. “Thank you, Jaime. I appreciate that.” 

He nodded and began to read.

* * *

**11:41 AM, Sevenmas Day**

_The End_ he read through watery eyes, and then shut the notebook with a long, shuddering sigh. Jaime looked around him, trying to place where he was. A car. Of course. On the road still with Brienne, though they were heading into Lannisport already, which meant their trip was nearly done. His mind was a haze, reluctant to return to the world. He'd gotten utterly lost in her prose and her story, could feel the aching sadness and soaring joy that she'd evoked so expertly. 

_Be honest_ , she'd asked of him. How could he be anything else when she'd laid herself so beautifully bare on the page? 

Jaime could tell Brienne was trying very hard not to hurry him, could see the tension all along the strong lines of her forearms, the cords of her neck muscles. She was marvelous, inside and out. 

“Well,” he said, and then cleared his throat, wiped his hand across his eyes. “That's one of the best things I've ever read.” 

She barked one quick, disbelieving laugh and then glared at him. “I said be _honest_.” 

“I am!” he insisted. “Or are you actively ignoring the way I'm covertly wiping tears from my eyes? I'm a writer, not an actor.” 

She blushed, but looked happy. “You liked it?”

“It's astonishing. You still tend to overuse commas to assign rhythm to a sentence” – she made a long, annoyed groan, but her eyes were smiling – “but truly: it's remarkable work, Brienne. You should be proud.”

“Thank you,” she said shyly. 

“It was very much my pleasure.” He rubbed his fingertips over the stickers, traced the edges of the notebook. Her writing hadn't just matured – it had coalesced into a poignant, vibrant blade, all her skill honed to perfect sharpness and set free to slice his soul with the truth and humanity she understood and cared for so well. Her writing wasn't just good, it was unbelievably, perfectly _human_. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt so seen before. She carried all of these feelings inside her magnificent body, the only sign of them in her exquisite eyes. She'd driven him across the country on Sevenmas Eve because she hadn't wanted him to be alone. He couldn't let her go again without telling her how he'd felt about her five years ago; how he still felt about her now. Jaime cleared his throat. “Brienne,” he started. 

“We're here,” she said, pulling into the airport rental building. 

“Oh,” he said, looking around. 

She looked down at her phone, her mouth tilting into an upset frown, before she took a breath and he saw her forcibly relax her shoulders. “You don't need to arrange a flight for me, I scheduled my own when we were stopped.” 

“You did?” She'd managed the rental car well enough, it made sense she could manage a flight, too. “But you drove so far out of your way for me. At least let me pay for your flight.”

“I'm happy to have helped out a-- a friend.” 

They had been friends, even within the sticky bounds of their relationship at school. It wasn't Brienne's fault Jaime had wished for more. 

“Besides, you paid for everything else, including the car. I can afford a flight back.” She held out her hand and he stared at it, the familiar blunt nails, their wide span. “My notebook?” she asked gently.

“Right,” he said, handing it to her. “Sorry.” 

They got out of the car, gathered up their things and headed for the terminal, stopping awkwardly at the door to the inside. It was warmer here in Lannisport, but Jaime still felt chilled as Brienne fidgeted with her pink bag. 

“You'll be all right, getting your own ride to Casterly?” she asked. 

“I texted my brother and he said they're sending someone to come pick me up. They should be here in less than an hour.”

“That's great,” she said, smiling sincerely. “I'm glad you made it home for Sevenmas, Jaime.” 

“All thanks to you.” 

Brienne bit her lip, but she nodded. “Well. I should get to my gate. 18 is a bit of a walk.” 

“I suppose you should.” He held out his hand to shake just as she opened her arms to hug him, and they both laughed and then switched positions, and then laughed again. “Let's pick one. Hug, for old time's sake?”

“Hug,” she agreed, and they did. They wrapped their arms around each other, her body pressed to his, her nose brushing his neck. Jaime had hugged her one other time, the night before her defense, when she'd stopped by his office and he'd wished her luck. She'd been so nervous, a skittish colt in his hands. How many nights had he pictured it? It was nothing compared to her in his arms now, solid and strong, older and settled. He was the one who felt nervous in this moment, restless except for where her hands soothed. 

The hug was going on too long, but he didn't want to be the one to let go first. She didn't seem to want to, either. Eventually, as though a silent signal had passed, they both let go at the same time, and they didn't look at each other as they said one last goodbye. 

Brienne hefted her bags again and turned away, heading for the gate. “Smudge!” he called out. She turned with a practiced look of annoyance. Jaime grinned. “Tell Margaery I'm sorry I delayed you, and I hope her surprise goes well.” 

Brienne's mouth trembled but she nodded. “Will do. Merry Sevenmas, Jaime.” 

“You, too, Brienne.” She set off again and Jaime settled on a bench just inside the doors to wait for his ride. She was off, and though he knew she lived in King's Landing, there'd been no indication she wanted to run into him again there. The best he could do was to keep his eyes open when he was exercising on Sundays, and pray that he caught sight of her pale blonde head. 

“ _Air Westeros flight 356 to King's Landing boards from Gate 18 in half an hour._ ”

Gate 18? That had to be a mistake, Brienne was heading for Highgarden. 

It was far more likely the announcer had made a mistake than Brienne had. 

Except. 

What had she said? When he'd offered to pay for her ticket? 

_I can afford a flight back_.

Back.

_Back._

Jaime stood abruptly. She wasn't going to Highgarden at all, she was heading home to King's Landing. Alone, on Sevenmas, after driving him across Westeros. 

Jaime ran for Gate 18.

* * *

**12:53 PM, Sevenmas Day**

“Brienne!” 

She was in the boarding line, a few passengers from the door. She didn't seem to have heard him, and he was already running as fast as he could. She'd been right: this gate was a trek. 

“BRIENNE!” he bellowed with all the air he had left in his lungs. Everyone from him to her stopped and stared. But, thankfully, so did she. 

He bent over, hands on his knees, when he saw her get out of line. 

“Jaime?” he thought he heard over the sound of his own heaving breaths. He looked up and she was hurrying near, worry all over her face. “Is everything all right? Did something happen?”

He gulped down air, held up a hand to stall her a few more seconds while he tried not to die. “I'm... fine,” he panted. “You.”

“Me?” She looked over her shoulder at the gate; when he followed her gaze, he saw there were still a few people left to be checked in. “Is something wrong? My flight's leaving soon.” 

“Back,” he explained. When he got home, he was going to up the cardio portion of his workouts. He didn't need cut muscles as much as he needed working lungs. “You... going.”

At least he could stand straight now, and see that Brienne was studiously staring at the floor. “I told you--”

“King's Landing. You're going home.”

Her stoic features crumpled in defeat. “I am,” she whispered. 

“Why? What happened with Margaery?” He was sweating far too much in his long-sleeved sweater. 

Brienne held out her phone with a text message from Margaery. 

_I ended up asking her on Sevenmas Eve and she said yes! I'm so sorry, I know we'd planned for everyone to be there, but I couldn't wait. You know how I am. Come hang with us anyway? We'll keep the disgustingly sappy stuff to a minimum! Love you!_

“Why didn't you go?” Jaime asked, searching her face intently. 

“They won't miss me and I didn't want to be around them happy and engaged when--” Brienne blushed. “When I was alone.” 

“You'll still be alone if you go back home now.” 

“But I'll be able to sulk in peace,” she admitted, and Jaime smiled, amused and gentle. 

“Or,” he said, gently lifting her chin. He met her wide-eyed gaze. “You could come to Sevenmas with me.” 

“No, I-- I couldn't. I don't want to mess up your family's celebration.” 

“Are you kidding? I'd drive all the way back to King's Landing with you this instant if you'd agree to it. I don't want to spend Sevenmas on my own with them, either. But if I had you with me, I could do anything.” 

“It won't be weird? Bringing an ex-student?”

Jaime winced. “Not an ex-student,” he said. “What about... a current crush?”

Brienne's mouth formed a perfect _o_ of surprise. “You have a crush on me?”

He rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. Jaime would be honest this time, even though he had to do it face-to-face. Not that his writing had helped him much before. He took a steadying breath, pictured what he would tell her if he were writing her that note now. “I have since grad school,” he admitted. “I was – am – smitten with you. That's why I was so hard on you at your defense – I didn't want anyone to know, to think I'd played favorites and darken your accomplishments. You'd earned that and I was making sure it stayed that way.” 

“You didn't handle that great.” Brienne's face was slack with disbelief, but her eyes... He felt a surge of hope.

“No, I did not,” he agreed with a dismayed snort. The sounds of the airport faded, the people that were hurrying by on their way to their own Sevenmas celebrations disappeared. All that mattered was Brienne, a tall flame of possibility standing right in front of him, setting him alight. “But hopefully I'm handling _this_ better.” Her head moved in a tiny nod. “Brienne, I just spent the last eighteen hours in a car with you, and I feel like it was approximately a million hours too few. Give or take an hour.” She laughed a little, her eyes glistening. “I want to talk to you endlessly, and listen to your absurdly wonderful laugh, and read more of your work – share my own with you. And, if you'll let me, I want to kiss you by a warm fire. Will you please accompany me to Casterly Rock for Sevenmas?” 

Her face split with a wide, joyful smile and she took his hands in hers. “I'd like that, Jaime. I'd like that very much. I wanted you to ask but...” Her grip tightened on his, as overwhelmed as he was. 

“Sometimes the words can be difficult to find,” he said. “But we get there eventually.”

She nodded and licked her lips. “We could test out the kissing now, just to be sure. You seem like you could use the practice, given how you handle things in the moment.” 

Jaime grinned slowly and tugged her closer through their joined hands. “Excellent idea, Smudge.”

“Don't call me that,” she whispered, just before she covered his mouth with hers.

* * *

**2:01 PM, Sevenmas Day**

“There it is,” Jaime said as he spotted an expensive black car in the distance; it could only belong to his family. He and Brienne were waiting outside, their arms around each other to keep themselves warm, to keep their lips within easy reach. He kissed her quickly, softly, and she smiled against his mouth. 

“You're getting better,” she said. 

He nipped at her lower lip and she shivered a little. “I had a good teacher,” he murmured. 

A delightfully pink blush coursed quickly down her neck. The car pulled up to the curb next to them, and Jaime resisted teasing her further, barely. They'd have plenty of time for that, and more – they were driving back to King's Landing tomorrow, and they were stopping at a hotel overnight on the way. 

The driver's side door opened and Jaime's jaw dropped. “You have got to be kidding me,” he moaned. 

“Fancy meeting you here, cousin,” Cleos said with a cheerful smugness. “Should I drive away and leave you to fend for yourself?”

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” Jaime began, and then went silent under Cleos' unamused stare. 

“Get in the car,” he said. “Unlike some people, I don't leave family behind.” He held out his hand to Brienne and they shook. “I'm Cleos Frey, Jaime's cousin.”

“Nice to meet you, I'm Brienne Tarth. I'm sorry about back in King's Landing.”

“Don't worry, I don't blame you at all.” He looked archly at Jaime, who just sighed and stowed away his and Brienne's luggage in the trunk. 

“How long is the drive?” Brienne asked politely as they climbed inside, her and Jaime in the back together. It was a much roomier car at least. Jaime wondered if he could talk her into fooling around while Cleos drove. 

“Likely a couple of hours; traffic's rough today with the holiday. But that will give us plenty of time to get to know each other.” Cleos started the car and carefully pulled into the flow of traffic. Jaime curled his hand around Brienne's, and she smiled fondly at him, brushed her fingers across his cheek. _This might be the best Sevenmas ever_ , Jaime thought.

“So, Brienne,” Cleos said, eying them intently through the rearview mirror. “What are your thoughts about mango peach preserves?” 

Or perhaps not.


End file.
